After the Fall
by MissValerieTanner
Summary: The tale of what happened after Jill's sacrifice at the Spender Estate. The story is told through Jill's, Wesker's, and Chris' eyes.


The taste of sand lay on her tongue, gritty and salty from the water. A searing pain thrived throughout her body, concentrated in her left shoulder and both legs. Her head ached with a dull throb, one that begged darkness to come, to whisk her away to the pleasures of sleep.

But in the distance, she could hear the thrashing waves of the wild ocean slapping against the shore mixing with the distant shouting of a man, her partner, his voice full of agony, calling out to her miles below the surface.

"C—Chris…" she groaned, her throat dry and aching. She tried to sit up, but the pain in her shoulder proved to be too much. Frail and weak from the fall, her body collapsed against the sand once more. The all too familiar sting of tears was on the edge of her eyes, prepared to break through the barrier just from the aches in her body.

Sighing, she managed to roll onto her back. Staring straight into the night sky, the moon was staring back with the same ferocity as it illuminated the sand like glistening pearls along the ocean's floor. Distant flickers of lightening broke through the ebony darkness like a candle's flame shuddering wildly at the end of a dark hall. Other than the dull roar of thunder that soon followed, the air was silent, save for the few ragged breaths that managed to escape her tightening throat.

She had survived, somehow, the fall that brought her greatest enemy to his death. Carefully, she scanned the area around her, searching for his black-clothed corpse, but there was no one else to be seen. She realized then that her entire body was soaked, saturated in the ocean's blood.

The fall… it had all happened so fast. Chris' life balanced in the palm of their enemy's hand. Time slowed, and seconds ticked by like hours. The blood in her system chilled. Her mouth opened, a scream tore through the night that came from a voice she hardly recognized. And then, her body was flying, sailing across the room until it collided with his. Her arms wrapped around his waist securely, and gravity did the rest, dragging their joined bodies through the window and down to the small, sandy shore awaiting them below.

The rush of water all around her was all she could remember. She couldn't breathe, and her arms were desperate to find the surface, and in their haste, they released his waist and dragged her body until it could touch the moonlight shimmering across the ocean's top. Then the waves carried her in until her body was nothing more than a discarded glass bottle.

How long had she been lying here, alone, cold, and damp? She stared into the bold moon, wishing the answers were there. Chris' voice was now a distant echo in her ringing ears, but another sound was breaking through, a sound the made hope rush through her veins: the sound of a helicopter's blades.

Rescue was on the way, and it wouldn't be long now until they reached her. A light smile touched her lips. As much as she hated hospitals, the idea of being able to relax her aching shoulder was enough to make even a hospital sound desirable. Sucking in a low, shaky breath, she prepared her body for movement. A heavy grunt and painful groan leaked out of her dry, cracked lips as she lifted herself into a sitting position. The headache was now a full, raging pain, and it caused her body to wobble a bit. But she managed to hold her ground.

Using her right hand, she pressed her palm into the damp sand, curled her weary legs underneath her body, and pushed. Staggering about a bit, she managed to not collapse under the pain that now consumed her mind.

Limping slightly, she started toward the edge of the shore where the moon shined the brightest. By now, Chris was most likely exiting the Estate, racing inside the helicopter's cabin, and ordering the pilot to search outside the grounds of the rear balcony window. She had faith in him and knew he wouldn't leave without searching.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, allowing the moon's light to soak into her face. It felt almost ridiculous to believe that Wesker was finally dead. After all he had put them through, it was over now, and it had only taken a suicidal jump to make that happen.

She laughed and shook her head, smiling honestly for the first time in so long. But that euphoria didn't last. The sound of the helicopter's blades overhead was growing louder, but beyond the noise they created, there was something else…

A light scuffling noise tickled her ears, and she whirled around, her heart slamming against her ribs. A cool sweat broke out on her forehead as her eyes nervously searched the shadowed shore. She knew she wasn't imagining things, and she knew who was with her now. She stepped away from the shoreline, keeping her back to the water. Her narrowed eyes scanned the darkness, but saw nothing.

Come on out, you bastard, she thought sourly. Fight on fair terms for once in your pathetic life.

She heard a splashing noise in the water, and she turned back to see ripples forming from a rock that had been tossed. A disheartened sigh left her lungs deflated and her body defeated when she heard the footsteps behind her.

The shadows of the shore seemed to embrace her when his hand gripped the back of her neck, his fingertips pushing into her skin until she winced from the pain. He leaned into her, a cool air sweeping around them. She closed her eyes tight when she felt his warm breath against her ear.

"Good night, Jill," his voice was like silk, deceptively smooth as always. His grip tightened on her neck until it felt as if her life was being drained from her body. She squeezed her eyes tight against the pain as her body went limp, falling back against his.

All she knew then was darkness.

Sweeping his other arm under her legs, he pulled her limp body against his chest. The BSAA helicopter was beginning to circle overhead, the beam of its searchlight highlighting the water in a futile attempt to discover what was resting in his arms.

A soft laugh left him. He turned away from the water and headed deeper into the shadows, searching for the underground tunnels beneath the Estate that Spencer had built into the mountain side. With ease, he cradled Jill's unconscious body closer against him and moved with the elegance of a snake through the tunnels toward the sleek, black car that awaited him on the other side.

"There's nothing here, Chris."

Staring at the waves below, he felt as helpless as he had seven years ago when they were searching for Bravo Team's downed helicopter. He could practically hear Brad's whiny voice calling from the cockpit, "Anything yet?"

He slid open the cabin door, sure that it was blocking his attempts to find her. Guilt's cold hand was wrapped around his heart, making it difficult to catch his breath, and every second that passed by, revealing only empty shores and black waves, made the guilt grow stronger.

He had been dumbfounded since he hit the floor of the Estate nearly an hour ago. Seeing Jill soar through the shattered window had frozen every muscle in his body. After everything, she couldn't leave him, not like this, and a sour burning in his stomach told him that she wouldn't regret the decision she had made, but he always would.

His life was not worth hers, and he would never ask her to sacrifice so much.

That thought made him grow angry at her for what she had done, and he hated himself for that. Finding her was all he cared about now, and he wouldn't rest until he did.

"Over there, Derek! See that small shore…? Take me there."

"Chris, I can't get that close. There's not enough—"

"Just take this bird down, damn it!"

The pilot didn't argue anymore. Instead, he tipped the helicopter's nose down and zeroed in on the spot Chris had seen. Pulling the nose up slowly, Derek brought the metal beast to a hovering position about thirty feet away from the shore. From there, Chris leaned out the open door. He could just barely make out some object lying in the sand a few feet inland from the crashing waves.

"I can't get any closer," Derek yelled. "You'll have to—" Before he could finish his thought, he looked over his shoulder to see that the cabin was empty and that the rope ladder had been rolled out the side. Derek shook his head, unbelieving. "She must be some partner."

On the shore below, Chris jumped off the ladder when he was still about ten feet from the ground. His landing was haphazard and unsteady, causing him to fumble, nearly falling. He didn't care. His heart was pounding at his chest furiously, demanding that he go on, no matter the cost.

Pushing through the sand, he managed to reach the object he had seen from the cabin. Kneeling down, he dusted away the sand. His ragged breathing ceased when he realized what it was.

"Oh, God…" his voice cracked. The worry and fear broke through his defenses, and he felt as if a part of him had died just then. Reaching into the sand, he felt his fingers wrap around the soft, pale blue cloth of Jill's baseball cap. It was still damp, letting him know that the fall must have put her in the water. But how could her hat make it inland if the rest of her didn't?

He knew the answer was obvious, but his mind refused to believe it. She couldn't be gone…not like this.

Rolling the hat up, he tucked the bill inside his pocket, allowing the rest to dangle against his hip. Groaning from internal agony rather than physical pain, he lifted himself back onto his feet, and with no other sign of life, he returned to the helicopter's cabin, pulling the ladder in behind him.

"HQ just radioed, Chris. They want us to head back in."

"No," his voice was stern. "We're not leaving here until we've searched everywhere."

"But, I really think we should—"

"Just fly the helicopter, Derek," he spat, poison dripping from his words. "I'll tell you when we're done."


End file.
